


Brother Knows Best

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Awesome Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Needles, Panic Attacks, Post-Hell, Post-Lucifer's Cage Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Allergies, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Whump, Sneezing, The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Post-Hell Sam is afraid of needles and has to get allergy-tested because something keeps making him sneeze. Dean is a good big brother.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 123





	1. A problem

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be canon divergent. This is after Sam returns from the Cage and after his wall has been broken. He has PTSD from everything that he’s been through and is unable to keep hunting. Dean and Sam start a new life with Dean attempting to help Sam through everything that he’s been through, especially the flashbacks and anxiety that brings.
> 
> There is mention of flashbacks of Hell and PTSD panic attacks. This is just one side of what it can be liked to have PTSD from those that I know who have it and some personal experiences. It’s different for everyone depending on what they’ve been through, but it’s very real and a struggle to live with.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

"Atchshshzz!"

Dean lifted his head from the car magazine that he was reading as he saw Sam fold forward into his hands with yet another sneeze. Dean grimaced at the severe wetness of it, even though he should've been used to it by now.

"Bless you, Sammy. You have those tissues, kiddo," Dean called as he tried to look over in Sam's direction.

"Atcsshshshzz!"

Sam snapped forward with another wet sounding sneeze and only answered Dean with a groan. Dean was used to that too by now. Sam wasn't his usual talkative self now that he had gotten out of hell and that his wall had been broken. Sam could hold a conversation with him, but he was prone to space out and sometimes freak out without any notice whatsoever. They were working on it and Dean was learning how to break Sam out from his flashbacks. They could even go some places without Sam completely breaking down. The fact of hunting was still daunting, but for right now, Dean was content enough to call a walk to the grocery store and a movie marathon night in the motel a success. That was until this new problem.

"Atcshshszzz!"

"Bless you again," Dean sighed as he sat up and set the magazine aside. "You feeling alright?" 

Sam lifted the long sleeve of his sweatshirt and ran it along his streaming nose, Kleenex completely forgotten. Dean sighed as he stood up and came back over to the motel bed. Sam had been facing away from him before, but now there was no hiding from his big brother. 

"Hey, you hear me," asked Dean as he lifted a hand and wiped Sam's bangs away from his forehead. He was surprised that it wasn't sweaty, but he checked for fever anyways. He didn't feel any fever burning under his cupped hand, but the redness of Sam’s nose and swollen sinuses was something. It just probably meant that it wasn't an illness.

Sam drew away from Dean like a pouty child. "I'b okay," he replied stuffily.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, right." He smirked before he grabbed the entire box of Kleenex and set it on his lap. "Blow your nose."

Sam took out a handful of Kleenex and emptied his nose into the tissues. It was a horrible sound and Dean could only imagine how much discomfort he had to be in. "Better," he asked.

Sam lifted his sleeve clad hands and rubbed them at them sides of his nose, emitting a small almost squelching sound. "I'll take that as a no," Dean sighed as he massaged his temples with his fingers.

"Ids uncomfortable," Sam complained in a small whisper. "Atchshszz!"

Dean frowned as Sam lifted his sleeve to his nose instead of a tissue and wiped it dry. Sam moaned before Dean took out a few tissues and placed them in Sam's other hand. "Bless you. Use those and then take off the sweatshirt. We'll wash it."

Sam started to scrub at his nose while Dean started to pull at Sam's sweatshirt. Sam pulled his sleeves from the sweatshirt as Dean pulled it the rest of the way off his head and set it aside. He frowned as Sam continued to sniffle while wrinkling his nose ever so slightly.

"You know, I don't think that you're sick," Dean commented as Sam rubbed his nose with another tissue. 

"Atchshszzz!"

"Bless you," Dean sighed as he handed Sam more tissues even though his hand had taken the brunt of the sneeze. "Nope, just the sneezing. Do you remember when you started sneezing?"

Sam opened up one eye that had been slightly squinting. "Earlier. The park," Sam questioned as he tried to recall when the incessant itch had started accompanied by the sinus pressure and sneezing. "Then in the grocery store and again in the Impala and—“

"Okay. There's way too many different things that it could be then," Dean mumbled as he tapped at his chin thoughtfully.  
  
Confusion showed in Sam's eyes. "Could be whadt," asked Sam still stuffily.

Dean sighed as he gave Sam another bundle of tissues. "Try blowing again. Remember when you knew how to do this on your own," Dean joked and was glad that Sam didn't take it to personally. "I meant that I think I know what's wrong."

"What," Sam asked as he looked to Dean like he held all the answers. He hadn't looked at Dean like that in a while and Dean couldn't deny that sometimes he missed that look in his brother's eye.

"I think that you have an allergy," Dean explained.

"To wha...." He trailed off as his eyes turned unfocused while his breathing hitched and his chest rose and fell, but not rhythmically.

Dean pulled numerous Kleenex from the box before he shoved it against his brother's face just in time.

"Atcshshszzz! Atchszzz! Atcshshzz!"

Somewhere in the middle of the fit Sam had taken the tissues from Dean and Dean had just rubbed small circles between Sam's shoulders. "Okay. Easy. Easy," whispered Dean as he tried to be as supportive as possible. He knew that his brother had to be feeling pretty crappy and this was probably the only way that Dean knew that he could help Sam feel better....or was it?

"You good," Dean asked.

No response. 

"Sammy, you hear me? You okay or did all that loud sneezing ruin your eardrums or something," Dean joked as he tried to catch sight of his brother's gaze.

Instead, Sam stared straight ahead with his mouth partially opened as he breathed congested while a stream of mucus ran from his right nostril thanks to his earlier sneezing fit. He looked almost terrified out of his mind and Dean sighed. He knew a flashbacking Sam when he saw one, even if he was silent. Sometimes he was loud in his freakouts and other times he just shut completely down. It wasn't ideal, but they worked through them either way.

"Okay, Sammy, okay," chided Dean as he grabbed more tissues and wiped at his nose before things could get even uglier. "You're okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what or who you see, it's not real. I'm real. Me, right here. Me and your allergies, I guess."

Dean ran his hand up and down Sam's back. It was a little easier to do without his sweatshirt and he hoped that he would get through to his brother as quickly as possible. Dean wasn't sure how long it was before Sam finally started to shift, and once he did that, he seemed to notice just how full his nose was. He looked around before he met Dean's gaze. "Ub Kleenex?"

Dean grabbed the box that he used to clean up Sam when he had zoned out and passed the entire box over to him. "Here. Blow this time."

Sam complied before he plopped down on the bed with his head hitting the pillow. He lifted his hands and rubbed his sinuses with a thorough passion. "This sucks!"

"I know it does, but I have an idea, but I don't think that you're going to like it," Dean confessed as he grabbed Sam's knee and squeezed.

Sam scrunched up his face against the itch. "No medicine," Sam muttered.

"Wow, if you don't like the sound of medicine then you're certainly not going to like what I'm going to suggest," Dean sighed as he stretched out a hand and brushed the hair out of Sam's face again before it could tickle his nose. 

"What are you going to suggest," Sam asked as he rubbed his fist against his nose.

"Quit that," snapped Dean as he batted Sam's hand away and set the tissues on his chest. "We have these for a reason and we can always get more, so start using them." He waited patiently for Sam to blow his nose before he continued. "I think that we should take you to see an allergist." 

Sam shot up so quick that the box fell from his chest, as well as cause the pressure to shift in his head. He grimaced as he immediately wrapped his hand over his face.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz!"

"Ugh, Sammy, seriously? Again," Dean complained as he grabbed Sam's hand and thrust more tissues on his hand. "Here. This should be a permeant fixture. You're going to have to remember this for next time."

"I don't want to go," he complained as he shook his head fearfully while looking at Dean. "I'm fine. Does it really matter what I'm allergic to? It's still pills, right?"  
  
Dean grasped Sam's shoulder and squeezed it powerfully. "Look, it's best if we know exactly what to avoid. Your senses are probably all messed up from hell anyway. What if something has changed and messed with your nose? Wouldn't you rather know? I know I would."

"I don't want to," Sam croaked.

"You don't have much of a choice." Sam looked away and sucked at his bottom lip. "Don't give me that look. I know what's best for you and ever since hell you need to trust me, right?" 

There was a small nod from Sam. "I do trust you. I just don't want to go."

"Why," Dean questioned gently.

Sam shook his head. "Just don't want to. I don't want to," he echoed as he quickly dove forward, this time into actual waiting tissues.

"Atchshshzz!!"

Dean helped him straighten before he sighed. "And this is so much better? Look, I'll be right there. I won't leave, even for a minute. We'll figure this out because I can't take another night of your snoring."

Sam elbowed Dean square in the chest and Dean almost fell backwards, but he instead ruffled the hair on top of Sam's head. "Now, get some sleep. It's not like we-" He suddenly stopped and sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders a bit.

Sam blinked his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. "S-Sorry," he stammered.

"It's not your fault," Dean argued. 

They were of course talking about the nightmares that plagued Sam when he slept. He would wake up screaming and Dean would have to calm him down at least three times a night, if they were lucky. Sam felt horrible about it and no matter how many times Dean told him it was okay, he wouldn't believe him. Dean just wished that he hadn't said anything.

"Come on," Dean urged as he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. "How about we watch a move instead? Or maybe something good and I'll figure out where we can go, deal?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really."

"I'm not giving you a choice. No more arguing."

"Atchshshzz!"  
  
Dean laid back on the bed next to Sam's and rolled his eyes. "Bless you."


	2. Attention and Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want to do this," Sam complained as he sniffled again.
> 
> Dean nodded. "I know, but this is for the best, trust me. Once we realize what is making you sneeze so much, then we can learn how to avoid it and you won't be so miserable all the time.” Dean shrugged his tight shoulders. “At least not about this.”

"I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. I don't—“

"Yes, Sammy, I know that you don't want to be here. But, it's for the best, okay? I know what's best for you," Dean chided as he tapped the pen against the clipboard. "Now, we have to answer these questions and I don't know them all. You have to help me out, alright?"

Sam shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of yet another sweatshirt, at least this one wasn't covered in snot at the moment.

He lifted his sleeve and started to rub it at his nose. Dean watched him as he grabbed his arm and yanked it back down. "Hey! This sweatshirt is clean, which is a step above the other two. Can we keep it this way, please?"

Sam gave a small nod, sniffling dejectedly. "What answers do you need?"

Dean flipped one of the papers on the clipboard and nodded down to it. "I can fill out most of this. After all, I think that I know your name and birthday. But, let's see, when did you first notice symptoms?"

Sam wrinkled his brow. "I don't know. It hasn't been that bad in a few weeks until yesterday." Dean raised an eyebrow as he continued. "Um, maybe three weeks ago when we had to pass through the woods near the diner."

Dean scribbled that down. "Okay, symptoms?"

Sam didn't even want to think about that. He grimaced as he tried not to think about sneezing or his runny nose. "I think it's pretty obvious. Do I have to say it?"

Dean chuckled when he noticed the flush that appeared on Sam's cheeks. "Alright, I think I can fill that out on my own. I think that I can do everything else."

"Good," Sam exclaimed, his nose starting to feel like it was buzzing again. Sam lifted his sweatshirt clad hand once more and started to rub at the offending appendage madly.

Dean looked up from where he was writing Sam's medical history before he noticed what Sam was doing. He battered his hand away for what felt like the hundredth time, narrowing his eyes at his brother in exasperation. "What did I say about that?"

"Itchy," complained Sam quietly.

Dean sighed heavily. It was like talking to brick wall sometimes. “You know what that means," he began as he grabbed the thin tissues on the table beside him. The one good thing about an allergy clinic was that there seemed to be an endless supply of tissues everywhere.

Sam grabbed one as he pitched forward with an unrestrained sneeze.

"Atchshshzzzz!"

It was a lot messier than Sam anticipated and he kept his hand clamped over his face, eyes drifting over to his brother, brimming with panic.

Dean gnawed on his bottom lip as he passed some more tissues over to Sam. He was just thankful that there was no one else in the clinic with them or Sam probably would've been more embarrassed. Instead he just looked miserable as he grabbed about ten more tissues and blew his nose wetly. He rubbed at his nose pathetically while he looked to Dean, a low whimper leaving his parted lips.

"I don't want to do this," Sam complained as he sniffled again.

Dean nodded. "I know, but this is for the best, trust me. Once we realize what is making you sneeze so much, then we can learn how to avoid it and you won't be so miserable all the time.” Dean shrugged his tight shoulders. “At least not about this.”

Sam's fearful eyes met his brother's calm green orbs. "No, I don't want to," Sam croaked as he pressed his wrist against his nose to stem even more flow. "Itchy again."

"Well, your wrist isn't going to do you much good," Dean pointed out as he lifted the entire box of tissues and waved them almost in front of Sam's face. "Come on. This is going to be rough. I can tell."

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz!"

Sam sat with tissues pressed against his face and his breathing still ragged. Dean rubbed small circles in his back before he nodded slowly. "Okay, you okay?"

"I hate this," muttered Sam as he leaned back against the chair with his mouth open as he breathed loudly since he couldn't breathe through his clogged nose.

"I know that you do," Dean sympathized. "But, it'll be okay. Right? It's better to know."

"Sam Winchester."

Sam's head darted upward as an older man appeared with a clipboard in hand. He came out from one of the doors in the corner of the clinic. He looked like he had done this for most of his life and seemed almost impatient about it. This was probably not the man that Dean would've liked to examine his brother, but he didn't think that they had a choice.

"Sam Winchester."

"We're the only two people in here. Who does he think he's trying to call," Dean whispered in Sam's ear in an attempt to make his brother smile.

It did it’s job as Sam smiled before Dean led him to his feet. Dean grabbed the box of tissues, knowing that Sam would probably need that soon. He led his brother forward while Sam's eyes darted around dangerously around him. As the doctor led them down the hall, Sam suddenly stopped and stared at the room in front of him, his breath hitching in fear.

Dean rested a hand on Sam's shoulder gently in case Sam thought he was a hallucination. "It's okay, it's alright," breathed Dean as he pulled Sam forward by his elbow. "There's nothing there. The last place Lucifer would be was is an allergy clinic, I promise."

Sam still looked to be more than a little on edge. He sighed heavily with his shoulders slumping. He tore his head away with his hands working against his hand where he had once sliced it open. He nodded over to Dean with his shoulders slumping. "Okay."

"See anyone else right now," Dean whispered.

Sam shook his head. "Not right now."

"Good," Dean praised as bustled the two of them forward swiftly. "Come on. The last thing that we need is this doctor to think that we're crazy."

Sam smirked as they headed into a room that the doctor pointed to. Sam gulped in nervousness as Dean motioned to the examine table. Sam looked to Dean hopefully, fingers twitching in the beginnings of alarm. 

Dean motioned to a chair that was in the corner. "Do you want me to bring it closer?"

Sam shifted as the doctor sat on his own rolling chair and started to go over the clipboard. He hummed to himself, his pen tapping to a beat against it.

"No," Sam mumbled as he answered Dean's question, but he wouldn't look at him.

Dean knew what that meant. "Alright. Give me a second." He pulled the chair over and sat next to him. Sam was obviously a lot higher than him, but Dean was close enough to almost hear the sniffling in his ear.

"So, I take it that you're his brother," inquired the allergist.

Dean nodded as he stretched out his hand and shook it with the doctor's hand. "That's right. I'm Dean."

"I'm Dr. Matthews. And you must be Sam," he replied as he looked up at Sam, who was shifting uncomfortably.

Sam gulped, adverting he his gaze supward, gave one more massive sniff, and dropped his gaze to his shoes. Dean smiled comfortingly. "He's a little nervous. Just got back from the war. A little PTSD.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Sam certainly had some form of PTSD, just not from a war this doctor would recognize. 

Dr. Matthews did a double take to observe the panic stricken man in front of him. Murmuring to himself, he stood and tucked the clipboard under his arm. "That's quite alright. Thank you for your service. Now, if there anything particular that you think he should be tested for?"

"We don't think that it's food since it's more sneezing and running nose and all that jazz," Dean tried to explain as he thought about what that would be. He had never been tested himself and they hadn't had this problem until Sam had come back from Hell.

Dr. Matthews seemed to soften a bit as he looked back at Sam. "Then I'll test him for pollen, pet dander, dust mites and things like that. Trust me, it won't be that bad. I'll be right back." He stood and disappeared from the room with the door closing behind him.

As soon as he left, Sam shifted and squirmed against the examination chair with the paper underneath him crinkling. Dean turned his head and immediately stood. He knew a panicked Sam when he saw one.

"What's wrong? We haven't done anything yet," Dean chided as he did his best to calm Sam down without touching him. Sometimes touches could send Sam back to visions of Hell.  
  
Sam gnawed at his lower lip. "Needles."

"What," Dean asked as he leaned forward. Sam had whispered it so softly that Dean couldn’t make it out. Sam didn't answer, so Dean pushed him a bit. "Scoot over." 

Sam did as he was told as he lifted his hand to scrub as his nose so much that a stream of mucus connected to his sweatshirt and strung as he tried to pull away. Dean grabbed Sam's hands and shoved them down. "What did I say? We have tissues for a reason. What are you, five?"

Sam sighed heavily as he slumped forward and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked down at him fondly. "What did you say before? I only got the last part."

"Needles," Sam replied just a bit louder.

Dean nodded very slowly. "Needles." He let out a small intake of breath. "I forgot about that. They used those as torture in Hell, didn't they?"

Sam pulled away from Dean and nodded viciously. He lifted a hand still in his sweatshirt and ran it up and down his other arm. He wasn’t digging his nails in as he often did, so Dean allowed him to continue for the time being. Dean frowned as Sam started to sniffle again and breathed through his mouth, eyes fluttering closed against his will. His head suddenly fell against his chest. 

"Atchshshzz!"

"Oh, Sammy," breathed Dean as he watched what Sam had expelled through his nose. He didn't say anything, but he did close his eyes in embarrassment.

Dean looked to the small rolling table that he had set the tissues on when they first arrived in the room. He was going to need to get off of the table to grab them, but he wasn't sure with clingy Sam if that was a good idea. He went to slide off when Sam suddenly grabbed him. "Don't go," he croaked.

"I'm going like two steps," Dean promised, line of vision flickering from Sam to the table, silently urging Sam to do the same.

Sam shook his head as he lifted his head with mucus still streaming from his running nose. He crushed himself against Dean's shoulder and wiped his nose against his shoulder. Dean cringed in shock as much as he did in disgust. It wasn’t the first time, but the damage was already done. The best he could he could do was force himself to relax.

"That's not what I meant," muttered Dean as he tried not to roll his eyes. "Come on. I'll be right back. Two seconds, that's it."

"Probise," Sam sniffed.

"Yeah, I promise. Besides, you have to blow your nose," Dean sympathized.

While Sam thought about it, Dean unthreaded himself from Sam's bulk and grabbed the tissues in one swift motion. He was back before Sam even noticed and held out the box for him. Sam took out a few of them and blew his nose with a trumpeting honk.

"See, isn't that better," Dean asked.

Sam wrinkled his brow, nose crinkling along the tip, finally nodding timidly. "Yes," he agreed, voice hoarse and raw from all the sneezing and post nasal drip.

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, you said that you're afraid of needles and I get that. I promise that I won't leave and that we'll get through this. You're going to feel so much better when this is over," vowed Dean as he looked Sam in the eye. Hazel eyes reflected back at him, dull and glassy without the usual vigor for life that Sam once possessed. The listless that was held there was becoming more and more regular to Dean, and it unsettled him more everyday.

Sam still didn't seem convinced, but he did nod, albeit numbly. "I don't like this, Dean," he breathed.

"I know," murmured Dean as he rubbed Sam between his shoulders to try and calm him down one more time. It seemed no matter how many times Dean worked Sam down, he always found a way to work himself back up.

There was a deep sigh from Dean as the door opened and the doctor appeared with a rolling table and numerous needles and vials as well. Dean had no idea what to expect since he had never had allergy testing and Dean just wished that he could comfort Sam just a bit more since he couldn't explain exactly what was going on.

"Alright. So, in adults we usually do this on the forearm, but I can do it on the upper back too if that's better," Dr. Matthews offered as he checked his needles and the allergens.

Sam looked at Dean and Dean back at Sam. Sam didn't answer and Dean rubbed at his forearm through the sweatshirt as he tried to draw his attention. "Did you hear him, Sammy? Where do you want it," Dean whispered.

Sam gnawed at his lower lip. "Um, back," he decided.

Dr. Matthews nodded. "That's fine. Have him lay down and remove his shirt. It may be a bit uncomfortable at first," Dr. Matthews offered as he came over to the cabinet in the corner of the room to grab another vial. 

Dean was thankful for part of the privacy. He helped Sam remove his sweatshirt and then the t-shirt. Sam squirmed a bit as Dean set everything aside. "Ready?"

"No," Sam whimpered.

Dr. Matthews came around and grabbed the first needle. However, as soon as Sam caught wind of it he bolted. He shot straight out of the chair and headed to the corner. He crumpled to the floor as imagines of blood and burning flesh filled his vision. He stared straight forward past Dean and Dean could only imagine what he saw.

Dr. Matthews set down the needle and gave Dean a kind smile. "How about you take a little bit and just open the door when you're ready. There's no rush," he told him with a small nod to Sam.

"Thank you," whispered Dean as the doctor left the room and closed the door behind him.

Dean immediately clustered over to his brother and tried to calm him down. He grabbed Sam's wrists while he struggled to catch his eye. "Sam, please look at me. I'm right in front of you. It's me, Dean. It's just me."

Sam looked straight forward. "Deadn?"

"It looks like someone needs to blow their nose before we continue," Dean told him as he stood and grabbed the tissues on the table, but Sam was already hitching with need before Dean even lowered the tissues to him.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz! Atchshshzzszz!" 

"Woah, woah," Dean told him as he pulled out as many tissues as he could in a few seconds as he shoved them against Sam's face. Sam continued to sneeze at full force.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzz! Atczzz!"

"Looks like someone is slowing down," Dean commented when Sam finally regained his breath and managed to nod at Dean. "Now, I think that we need to speak about what you saw, okay?"

Sam snorted in the tissues still in his hand as he wiped up the moisture from his nostrils. "Nothin'."

"Don't 'nothin' me," Dean snapped as he nudged his brother gently. "I know that you had to see something. It was something about the needles that set you off, huh? Now, talk to me."

Sam leaned back, head rested against the wall, and breathed loudly. "I'm fine."

"Sammy," Dean began sternly. That voice always got Sam to talk, especially as of late.

Sam shrugged. "I saw chunks of flesh on hooks and the needles that they used to inject burning things into each other. I saw the pain and smelled the blood. It was red and hot everywhere. I saw him and he laughed at me for being afraid. He said that he would take you away from me and—“

"That's never going to happen. He isn't real and I'm not going anywhere," Dean interrupted as he stood up and offered a hand to Sam to help him up. "So, can we finish this? I'm starving!"

Sam nodded as Dean helped him stand. Dean smiled. "Can we do this?" Sometimes it was best to ask Sam the same question in different ways to get Sam to verbally answer.

Sam nodded vigorously, rocking from the ball of his foot to his heel. "We can do this."


	3. Proud of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm so proud of you," Dean whispered, admiration and affection thickening his voice. “You did so good."
> 
> Sam sighed heavily. "No I didn't," he argued disappointedly.
> 
> "You were great! Anyone who's been through what you've been through couldn't have done that, and you know it," Dean chided as met Sam's tired gaze. Allergic tears pricked in the corners of his bloodshot eyes, reminding Dean just how miserable his little brother was. “You didn't deserve any of this."

Dean got Sam situated on the exam table once more. When Sam was finally calm enough, Dean left his side momentarily to open the door just like Dr. Matthews had requested his did. Dean smiled as he returned to Sam, but not before he grabbed the tissues and brought up the chair right in front of Sam as Sam laid down on his stomach once more. Dean jumped ever so slightly as Dr. Matthews rushed in. He waved a bit at the two brothers, already thrusting his gloves back on in a few quick tugs. 

"We good," questioned Dr. Matthews as he started to grab the needles and the allergens.

Dean nodded. "Sorry about that. He's a little scared of needles," Dean explained with a telltale nod.

"That's fairly common fear. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but if he needs a break just let me know," Dr. Matthews explained as he stretched out his hand and started to mark different places on Sam's back. As soon as Sam was touched by Dr. Matthews gloved fingers, he jumped.

Dean stretched out his hand and grabbed both of Sam's hands in his own tightly. Sam twisted, but Dean stopped him from going anywhere, pads of his fingers brushing gently over Sam’s knuckles. "It's alright, Sammy. It's just the doctor. He's safe. He's not Lucifer," whispered Dean.

Dr. Matthews's head shot up in surprise. "I'm not the devil?"

"It's just at thing that we say," lied Dean, realizing that he was going to have to talk to Sam a bit quieter. He didn't need this doctor to think that he and Sam were crazy, even though Sam probably was.

"Okay, Sam. You're going to feel a small pinch, but then it'll be over," reassured Dr. Matthews as he injected the first needle into Sam’s skin.

"No. No. No. No. I'm sorry. Don't do this," Sam growled and Dean could tell by the wildness in Sam's eyes that he was experiencing a flashback. Dean allowed Sam to grasp his hands fiercely and squeeze as hard as he needed to, nails digging into Dean’s exposed palm.

"Sammy, listen to me. You're not in Hell. You're okay. I'm here," Dean told him as he got so close that their foreheads were almost touching. He dug his nails into the healed wound on Sam's hand.

Sam's head snapped sideways and looked at Dean. "That's right," Dean told him as he watched Sam let out a deep breath. "It's me. I'm real. You're having allergy testing. You're not back there. Breathe and relax."

"You're doing great, Sam," praised Dr. Matthews as he continued with more tests. "Not too much longer."

Dean squeezed Sam's hands in spurts to keep Sam's attention on him. "Sam, tell me what happened in Hell with needles. Give me details."

"They would inject things into us, but I don't know what. They would use it to inflict pain like chains or swords. They wanted us to feel pain and they could torture us with injections and sometimes they would take blood, but not the right way. They threatened to use needles to blind us and take out our brains," Sam explained as he continued to squirm uncomfortably. His voice was quiet enough that Dr. Matthews couldn’t hear and Dean was grateful.

If Dean wouldn't have been with Sam and his Hell hallucinations for the last few weeks then he would've thought that Sam was lying. However, he believed his brother more than anything else. He just wished that he had thought of this before he forced his brother to go through with everything. They probably could've thought of another way to halt the Apocalypse, but right now they couldn't turn back. The only thing Dean could do was distract him.

"Atchshshzz!"

Sam's head fell forward almost against Dean's shoulder. "Bless you," Dean whispered.

"We're almost finished," Dr. Matthews replied over Sam's shoulder.

Sam squirmed with his nose slightly wrinkling. "Can I scratch my nose now," Sam pleaded.

Dean released one of Sam's hands before he showed the tissue box to Sam. "Yes, but you have to use a tissue," he told him as he watched Sam knuckle his nose hard with his hand, crushing the running appendage farther into his face. The tissue was crumpled in his fist, but he wasn't using it.

"Sam," Dean chided as he took a tissue in his own hand and forced it into Sam's hand and guided it up to his nose. "There."

Dr. Matthews tried not to laugh as he finished up. He set the final needle down on the rolling table beside him. He peeled off the gloves. "Alright, give it 15 minutes and if it's bumpy, raised, or itchy then we'll know that's what he's allergic to. Just try to take his mind off of it," Dr. Matthews told them as he took the rolling table and headed out of the room.

"Thanks, Doc," called Dean as Dr. Matthews slipped out. He then turned back to Sam and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "See? Was that so bad?"

Sam shot him a glare, the usual light that Sam had in his eyes before Hell shone through. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother’s attempt to look threateningly. "Nevermind. It probably was that bad."

"I hate this," Sam whispered as he suddenly used his tissue clad hand and twisted to itch at his back. 

Dean quickly lunged forward and grabbed his wrist and brought it back around in front of himself. "I don't think so. I may not have done this before, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to scratch at that," he pointed out as he tapped Sam's forehead to pull his attention. Any distraction would be welcomed at the moment.

"But, it itches," Sam complained, voice rising. He almost arched his back as he tried to alleviate the discomfort, fingers sprawling against the crinkling paper under him.

Dean grabbed Sam's chin and forced him to look at him. Green met hazel, a look of understanding traded between them. “Hey, focus on me. Look at me. We'll get through this, but you can't scratch," Dean ordered sternly.

"But, Dean—“

"Not buts! We've come way to far to jeopardize it now by you scratching at that. Besides, I'm sure that it'll only make it worse," Dean pointed out, stealing a glance over Sam’s shoulder at his twitching back muscles.

"Itchy," Sam whispered, head hung to press against his arm that was rested on the edge of the table. His fringe of hair was pushed back while he snuffed deeply. 

"I know it itches. You just told me that, but—“

"Atchshshzz!"

"Oh, that kind of itchy," Dean murmured, half to himself.

Sam lifted his head weakly, leaning forward, eyes blinking hazily. He had accidentally sneezed against Dean's shoulder since Dean still had his hands clutched tightly in his own fists. Sam started to rub his nose against Dean's shoulder and Dean stifled a groan. He stayed where he was and allowed Sam to continue. If this was what it took for Sam not to think about the itchiness of his back, so be it. Dean could always take a shower and do laundry later.

"Bless you," Dean whispered as he felt Sam tighten his grip on his hands. Dean didn't say anything since he knew that Sam had his reasons. "Do you want to blow your nose?"

Sam shook his head. "I want to go home," he sniffled. The pleading quality of his tone cut straight through Dean like a knife to the heart. It broke Dean that he couldn’t take this away from Sam.

"I know that you do and we will. As soon as we're done we'll go home, pick up some meds, and then we'll have some dinner because I'm starving," Dena exclaimed as he squeezed Sam's hands.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz! Atchshshzz! Ugh."

"Bless you! Geez, sneezy, what's wrong with you," Dean joked as he grabbed some tissues and held them to Sam's nose. "Now you have to blow."

Sam complied, but only because he was too tired to protest and his sinuses were still throbbing. He relaxed once he was finished and breathed loudly from his mouth. Dean continued to rub small circles on the back Sam's hands. He noticed that Sam’s ragged hair had fallen forward during his sneezing fit. Dean didn’t hesitate to tuck Sam's hair behind his ears.

"I'm so proud of you," Dean whispered, admiration and affection thickening his voice. “You did so good."

Sam sighed heavily. "No I didn't," he argued disappointedly.

"You were great! Anyone who's been through what you've been through couldn't have done that, and you know it," Dean chided as met Sam's tired gaze. Allergic tears pricked in the corners of his bloodshot eyes, reminding Dean just how miserable his little brother was. “You didn't deserve any of this."

Sam looked like he was about to drift off when he suddenly twisted and growled, back spasming. "My back is on fire!"

Dean looked at Sam's back and saw the angry splotches appearing in almost every area that had been tested. He was no genius, but he could assume that didn't feel good. He bit his lip so that he didn't show his fear to Sam before he continued to rub small circles against his hands. Dean applied just enough pressure that it kept his attention on Dean without hurting him.

"We're almost done, I promise," Dean told him as he looked up at the clock. They still had ten minutes, but Sam didn't know that yet, and Dean wasn’t about to share that fact.

Sam gave a powerful sniff as his nose started to run. He wasn't oblivious to it, but he didn't want to move. He started to close his eyes as he moaned.  
  
Dean released one hand and rubbed at Sam's nose with a bundle of tissues. Sometimes Sam’s mind began to shut down and Dean had to step in. He didn’t mind for the most part. If Dean could ease Sam’s suffering in any way, you better believe he was going to do it. "There you go, kiddo. That should make you feel a little better,” he murmured, half to himself.

"Atchshshzz!" 

"Or maybe not," sighed Dean once Sam sneezed again. This time Sam didn't even bother to open his eyes. 

His nose continued to run and Dean continued to clean him up before Dr. Matthews came back. He wiped at Sam's nose once more, grasping it and giving it a thorough wiping, being as gentle as possible in the same respect. "Okay, Sammy. Just relax as much as you can."

Sam's hands suddenly grasped Dean's and held onto them hard even though his eyes didn't open. Dean just smiled and started to hum Metallica. It wasn't exactly going to calm Sam down, but it was calming Dean down pretty good. He was just as, or maybe more so, worried about Sam than Sam was. He just wanted this whole ordeal to be over.


	4. Help is Never Far Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam blushed. "Will we be okay?"
> 
> "You mean will we make do? We always do! We may have to change a few things and be more careful, but that's doable. It's nothing that we haven't worked out before," Dean pointed out.

The door suddenly opened and Dean's head shot up. He didn't think that he had drifted off, but he certainly had relaxed and so had Sam. He still seemed to be in discomfort, but just like Sam's panic attacks, Dean was able to calm him down and talk him through it.

"I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something," questioned Dr. Matthews, gaze flicking between Sam and Dean.

Dean shook his head, still gripping Sam's hands. "Um, no, not really," Dean replied as he nudged Sam's shoulder to let him know that Dr. Matthews was there.

"Good. Well, let's have a look," Dr. Matthews grunted as he put on more gloves and looked at the splotches on Sam's back. He squinted his eyes, humming softly.

"What's wrong," asked Dean in concern.

"Oh, there's nothing to be alarmed about. It just seems that he's had a pretty severe reaction to pretty much everything that we tested for," Dr. Matthews replied as he scooted back on his rolling stool and looked at Sam's chart. "You said that he's never had allergies before? That's strange. They can pop up, sure, but not usually this severe. Has he been away recently like at a different climate?"

Sam jolted and Dean tried not to show his fear. "Um, you could say that."

"That might be it. If he's not used to everything here then his body might not be very accepting of it, but you don't have to worry. There are plenty of things we can do and somethings that you can do. Cleaning is a huge thing and avoiding the allergens. I'll give you some pamphlets and print outs on how you can help your brother," Dr. Matthews explained.

"Thank you, Dr. Matthews," Dean breathed. 

Dr. Matthews nodded before he handed some cream to Dean. "Don't mention it. Here. You can put this on him," he offered.

Dean nodded as he started to spread the cream on Sam's back. Sam moaned in relief as his hands started to relax from where they had been pulling on the ends of his hair. He looked over his shoulder at Dean and Dean finished up quickly, knowing that Sam was itching to leave—no pun intended.

"You okay," he asked.

"Atchshshzz!"

"Okay, I'll take that a as a maybe," Dean joked as he set the cream down and grabbed more tissues as he helped Sam sit up. He handed him tissue after tissue as Sam rubbed at his nose.

"Looks like you're allergic to more things than we thought," Dean told him as he nudged him playfully. "Leave it to you to return here and your body forgets everything about earth."

Sam blushed. "Will we be okay?"

"You mean will we make do? We always do! We may have to change a few things and be more careful, but that's doable. It's nothing that we haven't worked out before," Dean pointed out.

Sam seemed content with that answer as he nodded. He rubbed a fist against his nose before he looked at the sweatshirt on the floor. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Sure," Dean told him as he tossed him his clothes. He knew that Sam just wanted his sweatshirt to rub at his nose. Dean hated when he did that, but after the day they’d had, he was sure that Sam deserved whatever he wanted. If the worst thing that he wanted to do right now was rub at his itchy nose with the sleeve of a rough sweatshirt, then who was Dean to deny him that.

Sure enough, Sam started to rub at his nose after pulling the sweatshirt over his head. Almost as abruptly, his body tensed as more sneezes were unleashed against the soft fabric, muffled as much as Sam could manage.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz! Atchshshzz! Atcshshshsh!"

"Bless you!" Light bulbs went off in Dean's mind when he watched his brother pitch forward with even more ticklish sneezes. Instantly, Dean lunged forward and yanked at Sam's sweatshirt. "Take it off. Take it off!"

Sam reluctantly did as he was told. Dean pulled the sweatshirt from Sam’s fingers and tossed it aside. "Why," Sam complained.

"You probably just had some allergens on it or something," Dean explained as he thought about all the places that they had been as of late. "You can't wear that right now." He grabbed Sam’s t-shirt and gave it over, hoping it wouldn’t elicit the same reaction. “Just wear this for now.”

Sam did as he was told while he rubbed at his nose with the side his hand. "Still itchy."

"I'm going to tape this tissue box to your hand," Dean snapped as he thrust it on Sam's knee. "Use those! Not your hand."

"Deadn," complained Sam once more.

Dean shook his head. "And blow your nose. I can hardly understand you.” He felt like he was saying that a lot these days.

Sam rolled his eyes, begrudgingly complying. He knew better than to argue with Dean. Once he was finished, Dr. Matthews walked in with some paperwork and smiled. 

"How are you feeling, Sam," Dr. Matthews asked.

Sam shrugged. "Okay. Better now that it's over," he replied as he shivered slightly.

There was a laugh between Dean and Dr. Matthews as the doctor handed the paperwork and prescriptions to Dean. "I'm sure that you are. You did great. I will let you know that you tested positive for everything except for one thing."

"And what's that," Dean pressed, interest stirring inside him.

Dr. Matthews smiled as he crossed his arms across his chest. "Cats."

Dean rolled his eyes, reading out to grab Sam's shoulder and give it a squeeze in amusement. Sam blushed deep crimson, but Dean wasn't sure if it was because of his jabs or just how bad Sam felt overall. They would have to talk about it later, if Dean got Sam to open up about it. Neither one of them were great with that part. Although, they were getting better. They had to after all.

"That should be everything," Dr. Matthews continued as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Just call if you need anything. It should be pretty straightforward, but you will have attacks every so often and you have to be sure to take your medicine regularly, okay, Sam?"

Sam looked up to him and nodded slowly. "Sure, Doc.”

"I'll make sure he does," vowed Dean as he stretched out his hand and shook Dr. Matthews' hand firmly.

"Take care, boys," Dr. Matthews called as Dean led Sam from the allergist’s room and to the receptionist’s desk. He moved Sam's sweatshirt around feebly as he handed Sam the paperwork and dug his wallet from his jeans and broke out a fistful of bills he had won in his latest pool match.

"Atchshshzz!"

"Bless you," the old lady behind the receptionist desk exclaimed. She looked around the counter, hand coming up to push some tissues through the sliding glass window. 

Dean threw the tissues to the side and Sam caught them, quickly pulling some out to promptly sneeze into them messily again.

"Atchshshzzzz!"

"Go get into the car, snotty," Dean told him he tossed him the Impala's keys, which Sam actually caught despite not looking. "I'll be right there once I pay."

Sam didn't have much of a choice unless he wanted to continue to make a spectacle of himself in the lobby. He reluctantly headed outside where he knew that all of the things that made his nose tickle and run would be waiting for him. But, he would rather go through it alone right now then with people, or even Dean, watching him embarrass himself.

As soon as he opened up the door to the clinic, the hot air made his nose tickle deep within in his sinuses. He had taken the entire box of tissues from the clinic and there were plenty more tissues and napkins in the Impala, but until then he was going to have to make do with what he had.

He grabbed a handful of them and pressed them against his face to try and stop the mess that he knew would ensue.

"Atchshshzz! Atchshshzzzz! Atchshshszzz! Atchshzhzzz! Atchszzz!"

He staggered toward the Impala, staggering when he finally fell against it. He groped for the door and opened it, falling unceremoniously inside, struggling to slam the door shut and allow himself to fall into the fit and just sneeze until he was content.

"Atcshshzzzh! Atcshzhzzz! Atchshshshzzz! Atcshzzzzz!"

"Bless you! I'll roll up the windows and turn on the air conditioning, how about that," Dean exclaimed as he closed the door and did as he promised without waiting for Sam to answer. He started the engine, and once it roared to life, he reached into the back and pulled out another box of half used tissues. Twisting, he threw them in Sam's lap. "These should be easier on your nose, snotty."

Sam grimaced in agitation and discomfort. "Stop callind be thadt," he snapped.

"The threat isn't the same with the stuffy nose," Dean joked as he placed the Impala in reverse and drove away, leaving the allergy clinic behind. 

Soon the only sound in the Impala was Sam blowing his nose and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. Once Sam was finished, he leaned against the passenger door and Dean turned the music on low. 

"We'll stop at the nearest pharmacy and get this and then we'll get back to the motel and get you medicated so that you can sleep this off. We'll leave tomorrow morning and something tells me we'll have to be a little more careful about our accommodations," Dean rambled as he looked around for where the nearest pharmacy might be. "Sound okay?"

Sam didn't answer.

"Sammy," Dean questioned, fearful that he was seeing someone besides him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean," croaked Sam quietly.

"For what," Dean snapped, a little harsher than he meant to. He paused when he saw Sam flinch. "Why should you be sorry?" 

Sam shrugged. "First the hallucinations and the not being able to hunt and now this. I can't stop messing up your life."

"Sam, stop it! You are not messing up my life in the slightest. You saved the world, Sammy. Everything that I do is because I want to. I don't have to do this," Dean told him as gently as possible so that he didn't spook him. "I'd do anything for you. You don't have to be sorry to me, understand?"

Sam turned his head and looked at Dean and smiled halfheartedly. "I understand."

Dean nudged him playfully before they headed off. Dean may not be able to fix everything with his brother, but he did know what was best for Sam and he would always try to make him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this story and I hope you all enjoyed it and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
